The dog days of summer are here, and every day I'm reminded that the day does belong to the dog. It's like having a new child. She has to pee. She has to be walked. She refuses to walk. I remind her who is the Alpha in the relationship. We walk. We run. We feed. We clean up. She chews. She pees again. We put her in her crate. And the cycle keeps going.
At first, I bucked the system. There was very little patience in me for this animal--quite different for me when it's a child. I resented the fact that I was getting up at 2 am for the whining, tail-wagging snippit. I didn't like that frustration and anger accomplished absolutely nothing and that treats and sweet talk alone were impetus for change. And mostly, I didn't like that she refused to go on a walk. A dog that doesn't walk is a dog with too much energy. Hence, the need for a walk. Yet, she refused. Crouched right down and I had to haltingly drag her around the block.
But now my attitude has changed. I'm learning a lot from that tail-wagging snippit. I heard a story once about a man who inherited a large portion of land. He moved his family there and raised livestock on it. One of the animals he selected was sheep. He wanted to learn from new perspective what it meant for God to be our shepherd. He found that being a shepherd wasn't all that fun. First of all, the sheep were absolutely dumb. Secondly, he would poke and prod, but the sheep wouldn't follow, even when they were hungry, thirsty or freezing. He literally had to drag them sometimes. But the worst thing about the sheep was the ram. The man named the ram "Rambo" because this sheep hated the man. When the man would approach, Rambo would lower his head and charge.
But the man noticed something different about the rest of his family, especially his young daughter. She would call or just walk by and all the sheep would follow--even Rambo. This infuriated him and he hated the sheep all the more. He pushed harder. They balked harder.
Then an event happened that changed this man forever. The sheep were just days from birthing. It was early spring with ice and snow. The sheep refused once again to come to the barn. The man threw a fit and just went inside. That night, all the sheep miscarried. His anger had accomplished nothing but harm. The incident made him change. He took notes from his little daughter and began responding to the sheep with kindness for stubbornness, with patience for slowness. And eventually, even Rambo would follow him. The man did, indeed, learn what God is like.
I guess I'm learning some of the same lessons. Annie is a good teacher. And she's cute. I guess that helps a little. Another side benefit is that she's making me get out of bed at 6 am and take a good long walk/run. I've needed that discipline. So, thanks for the dog days, Annie.
